This is your show. I am just the white elephant in the room.
I’m the red dragon on the merry-go-round everyone resists sitting upon but secretly wishes to shoot into their jelly baby veins.
This is your show, and I am just more collateral damage that refuses to accept that it’s dead.
Believe what you want. It won’t make a damn bit of difference when your stools are bloody and your doctor no longer returns your phone calls.
I elected for the surgery even though it was not elective surgery, and look at me now - just another bitter, dead atheist wishing they were a bland, alive Christian.
When your chosen status becomes a monkey on your back, that’s a good time to sell the farm and move to a city where no one knows your name or believes in your holier-than-thou status.
This is your show. I am just the rude house guest who refuses to vacuum and has eaten all of your Hot Pockets.
I’m the dragon you’ve been chasing long before Vietnam became a black eye the United States of Amnesia repeats every few years because occupation is the only language our government seems to understand.
This is your show, and I am just another Paddington orphan wishing someone would take me in from the cold and treat me like I was actually worth something.